


All My Uphill Clawing

by pocky_slash



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gwen and Jack help Ianto deal with the aftermath of being stuck in a timeloop. A coda to <a href="http://pocky-slash.livejournal.com/1462797.html">A Vision Too Removed to Mention</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All My Uphill Clawing

**Author's Note:**

> This is a coda to [A Vision Too Removed To Mention](http://pocky-slash.livejournal.com/1462797.html) and really won't make any sense if you haven't read that story first. Um, it's a long one. Sorry. So many thanks, as always, to [](http://solsticezero.livejournal.com/profile)[**solsticezero**](http://solsticezero.livejournal.com/), the best beta/pre-reader/idea-bouncer-offer ever. Title from "The Trapeze Swinger" by Iron and Wine.

In the days after Ianto's imprisonment in the time-loop, he sticks close to the rest of the team. Gwen hardly notices, at first. She's so happy to have him back, the memories of _not knowing him_ still so sharp that she doesn't want him out of her sight. It's not until the third day after that she realizes that he hasn't been in the archives since his ordeal. He hasn't been out of the main atrium, actually, not without Jack at his side.

Jack must notice as well--Jack does nothing _but_ notice Ianto now. They've all been watching him, if she's honest. Ianto's been so quiet, so invisible that Gwen flashes back to her first days at Torchwood when he was hiding a terrible secret and they blatantly took advantage of his indispensability. Gwen finds herself abruptly halting her work to look up and find him and various times during the day. She catches Tosh doing the same thing, though a bit less frantically than Gwen does. If Owen is checking up on Ianto, he doesn't let it show, but she knows that doesn't mean it's not happening. And Jack? Gwen doubts Jack's gotten any work done at all. He's always on the catwalks, standing at the window of his office, lurking around the kitchen. Jack's eyes are seeking Ianto every time Gwen sees him.

Halfway through the third day after, Gwen catches Ianto staring at the door that leads down to the sublevels, to the archives. Owen's doing an autopsy and Tosh is meeting with Jack, so Gwen crosses the relative privacy of the atrium and lays a gentle hand on Ianto's shoulder. He startles, but then relaxes into it, a reaction she's gotten used to this week. Ianto has been far more open to friendly touches and public affection since this mess, but his immediate response is always surprise, as if he's forgotten that there are people in the world who want to touch him.

"Do you want me to go down with you?" she asks, sliding her hand from his shoulder to his waist and leaning against him.

"No," Ianto says. "I need to get over it. It's silly and I need to do my job."

"No one would fault you, pet," Gwen says. "If you took a few more days to get over it, I mean. A few more weeks, even. The amount of time you were...." She trails off, because they don't talk about it. Ianto gave a report, an incredibly detailed, incredibly painful report that Gwen read in tears, but aside from explaining the barest of details, he hasn't spoken of it since.

"I have to do it," Ianto says, but he turns his face into her hair and sighs softly.

Gwen chews her lip and then says, hesitantly, "What if I talked to you? Over the comms, I mean, while you were down there."

"You don't need to do that," Ianto says, but he pulls his head back and she can read between the lines.

"It's no problem," Gwen says. "Just until you get used to it."

Ianto smiles at her, the tiny, vulnerable smile that makes her want to wrap him in cotton wool and hide him away from the rest of the world.

"Thanks," he says. He squares his shoulders, gives her one last sheepish look, and then heads down to the archives, clenching and unclenching his fists as he goes.

Gwen walks back to her desk, chatting amicably about her morning. She sorts through her reports, telling Ianto about Rhys' work week, the trip that he's taking, the program they watched on the telly last night. Ianto hums appreciatively or asks absent questions. Gwen hears drawers opening and closing, papers shuffling, and knows this is just what he needed. When she runs out of things to talk about, she reads him his horoscope and then hers, then the report she's writing. Once Tosh returns to her desk, Gwen strikes up a conversation, keeping the comms open so Ianto can hear. As Tosh starts to look longingly at her computer, Gwen walks up to the kitchen and begins reciting bits of poetry and rhymes floating around in her head.

"Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye, four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie," she sings quietly as she pours water from the electric kettle over a tea bag. "When the pie was opened the birds began to sing, and wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?"

"The king was in his counting house, counting out his money," Ianto sings back, amusement coloring his voice. "The queen was in the parlor eating bread and honey. The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes, when down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose."

"Is that a proper verse?" Gwen asks. "I've never heard that before. A bit morbid, isn't it?"

"It is," Ianto says. "A lot of those old nursery rhymes are a bit morbid if you sit and think about them for too long. Who killed cock robin?"

"Good point," Gwen says.

"Or little Tommy Tucker," Ianto says.

"I don't think I know that one," Gwen says.

"Little Tommy Tucker sings for his supper. What shall we give him? Brown bread and butter. How shall he cut it without a knife? How shall he marry without a wife?"

"How do you know all these?" Gwen asks, leaning against the railing and sipping her tea.

"I know everything," Ianto says. There's a hint of a smirk, even over the comms, a bit of the good humor that Gwen has missed in the past few days.

"This one was my favorite growing up," Gwen says. "The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea in a beautiful pea-green boat."

"They took some honey and plenty of money, wrapped in a five pound note," Ianto replies.

"Shush," Gwen says. "I'm doing this one. The Owl looked up to the stars above and sang to a small guitar, 'Oh lovely Pussy! Oh Pussy, my love, what a beautiful Pussy you are, you are, you are. What a beautiful Pussy you are.'"

"Thinking a bit much of yourself there, Cooper," Gwen hears from behind her and blushes to the roots of her hair as she whirls on Owen.

"Christ!" she yelps, as startled as she is embarrassed. "Don't sneak up, Owen!"

On the other end of the comm, Ianto laughs.

"I wasn't sneaking," Owen says. "Not my fault you're too busy singing a love song to your twat to hear me."

"It's a child's rhyme, Owen," Gwen says. "I was _reciting it_ for Ianto."

"Best not to let Jack know, then," Owen says. "You know how territorial he gets."

"You're a tosser, Owen," Gwen says. "Honestly, is your mind ever _not_ in the gutter?"

Ianto's still laughing as Gwen quickly retreats, bringing her tea back to her workstation.

"It's fine," Ianto insists. "Really, I'm coming back up now, anyway. It's nearly time for lunch."

"If you're positive, love," Gwen says. "If you've still got work to do I can always work my way through...." She shuffles through the papers on her desk and pulls out a long-buried and out of date magazine. "'Five Secrets for a Work-to-Play Wardrobe.'"

"As scintillating as that sounds, I'll see you topside," Ianto says.

"All right, Ianto," Gwen says. "See you then."

"And, ah, Gwen?" Ianto adds hesitantly, just as Gwen's about to turn off her comm.

"Yep?"

"Um. Thank you."

Gwen smiles. She's still smiling when Ianto joins them in the atrium five minutes later.

***

The fourth day after is a Sunday. Ianto is already in when Gwen arrives. She wonders if he's been home at all, but she's afraid to ask. He has circles under his eyes, and instead of looking better the farther he gets from his personal catastrophe, he's looking worse. He successfully overcame the archives on his own the afternoon before, but he's still silent and distant, a self-enforced outsider even as the rest of them strive to include him.

The day is quiet and still. Owen and Gwen catch up on reports while Tosh works on some of her side-projects. No one suggests a game of basketball or cards, though. The entire team seems to be taking their cues from Ianto, who still sticks close-but-not-too-close, who stares at them but doesn't talk to them.

Rhys is on a work trip, a haulage conference in London, so Gwen suggests a team dinner. They eat pizza around the board room table, Tosh and Owen carrying the conversation as they debate over a film the rest of them haven't seen. They've picked up on the tension and they've read the report, but Gwen imagines it's different for them. They have no memories of not knowing Ianto. To them, the entire ordeal didn't even take place. Ianto's experiences were longer and harsher and harder than Gwen's and Jack's, but at least they understand. At least they have the phantom guilt of staring Ianto right in the eye and telling him they didn't know him.

Gwen's suddenly not very hungry.

When the pizza is gone, Owen heads back to autopsy, making noises about having to watch people eat for long enough, but Gwen gets the feeling it's the tension, not the food, that's weighing on his nerves. Tosh goes back down to her computer, offering them a smile and a vague excuse and leaving Gwen alone with Jack and Ianto.

Ianto soundlessly collects the garbage and stacks plates and glasses. He takes the dishes to the kitchen and returns to wipe down the table. Jack is still sitting at the head, giving Ianto a searching looking. Gwen fidgets in her chair, watching both of them, wanting to say something, not knowing what. When Ianto finishes with the table, he looks at Jack and then Gwen. Without speaking, he leaves the board room.

"He's...." Gwen starts to say, and Jack nods.

"I don't know how to fix it," he admits. "He's just as quiet at home. He just... looks at things like he can't believe they're real. He's not sleeping. He won't talk. I don't know what to do."

Gwen doesn't have any solutions either. Well, any practical ones. She doesn't think locking Ianto in the Hub and never letting him out of their sight again is something he'd appreciate. Holding onto him until he gets better isn't feasible either, even though her arms itch to embrace him every time he walks by with that far-away, hunted look on his face.

There's a clatter from outside the board room, a clatter followed by the sound of glass smashing. Gwen and Jack look at each other and sprint from the room, reaching the atrium of the Hub in time to bump into equally wide-eyed Tosh and Owen. Gwen leads the way to the kitchen without pause, Jack a split second behind her, but she freezes when she gets to the top of the stairs.

Ianto is standing stock-still, holding the handle of a coffee mug. The rest of it is in pieces, scattered on the counter and on the ground, along with all of the dishes from their dinner.

Gwen comes back to herself and picks her way across the floor. She wraps a hand around Ianto's, prying his fingers back until the handle of the mug joins the rest of the debris with one last crash.

"There was a spot that wouldn't come out," Ianto says dully. He looks up at her, eyes wide. "I didn't mean to. Then I couldn't stop."

Gwen gives into the itch and wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly. Behind them, Jack tells Tosh and Owen to go home. When Gwen steps back, Jack's kneeling on the ground, sweeping the broken crockery into a dustpan. Gwen fetches the garbage can and brings it over. Between the two of them, they manage to clean up most of the mess before Ianto snaps out of his fugue and kneels down to help.

"Hey, hey, no," Jack says. He moves to Ianto and urges him to stand up. "It's okay."

"It's my job," Ianto protests. "I should--"

"We've got it," Jack assures him. "It's okay. Gwen, why don't you take Ianto to sit downstairs? I'll finish this up."

Gwen stumbles to her feet, nodding.

"Of course," she says. She wraps an arm around Ianto's waist and urges him towards the stairs, even as Ianto glances behind them at Jack on his knees, picking through the broken glass.

Ianto is pliable and distracted as Gwen directs him towards the sofa. He sits down, slumping into the cushions, his chin against his chest. Gwen paces in front of him, desperate for something to do with her hands that isn't wringing them together uselessly. She wants to hold him and tell him it will be all right, but she knows the words are empty and meaningless.

"It feels like it's been ages," Ianto says, finally. He tilts his head up to look at her, but doesn't sit up any further. "I started to fill out those new expense reports yesterday and I had to stop to check the proper format because it had been so long since I did them. But it hadn't. It was three days ago."

"That's understandable," Gwen says, sitting gingerly on the table in front of the sofa. "No one's going to fault you for that."

"But no one else remembers it," Ianto says. He looks down again, picking lint off his thigh. "This huge expanse of time that I lived through, and no one else remembers it. Am I even properly twenty-five anymore?"

"Your body reset with each loop." Gwen glances behind her quickly, wondering how Jack managed to approach without making a sound. Ianto doesn't bother to look up. "Your body is still twenty-five. Your mind holds the only record of what happened." Jack has his hands in his pockets and his expression is unreadable. "I know that just makes it worse."

"I thought it was a delusion," Ianto says. "Torchwood, at first, and now... all the rest of it. Family history." He laughs, darkly.

Gwen drops onto the couch next to Ianto and takes his hand. He allows it, but doesn't look up.

"No, sweetheart," she says. "No. It wasn't. It was real. It was horrible, but it was real. You're not crazy."

"Maybe it would be better if I was," Ianto says. He glances up at her and offers a crooked smile. Gwen squeezes his fingers. She has no idea what to say to that. "I have these memories of my mum, of her stories and her smiles and I know now--I've known for a long time that those were things brought on by her illness. But she was happy then. Maybe it's okay to embrace the disease if you're happy when you're doing it."

Jack is around the coffee table in three strides. He sits on the edge of it, where Gwen had been before, and stares heavily at Ianto.

"But it wasn't a happy experience," he says. "It was awful, but it happened and you lived through it and you're strong enough to get past it. You're not crazy, Ianto. You're back, now, and you have us." Gwen squeezes Ianto's hand again for emphasis, then raises her other hand to stroke his cheek. He looks down at their joined hands and rubs his thumb against her wrist.

"I think I finally understand," Ianto says quietly. "I've... I've always known that it wasn't easy for you. Dying and coming back, I mean. I know that it's painful. But I don't think I ever understood what it was like _wanting_ to die and knowing that you can't."

Across from them, Jack stops moving. He sucks in a breath, sharply, but doesn't say anything.

"When I was... there," Ianto continues, "It... I never... there was no point in trying to kill myself. I knew it would just restart the cycle. But I would think about the expanse of forever, about what would happen if I couldn't stop the loop, and it was... it was too much. It drove me mad if I thought about it for too long, about how there would be no escape. I can't imagine feeling like that all the time. Jack, I just can't--"

He sits up, suddenly, and stares at Jack, his eyes wide and wet. Jack stares right back, and Gwen feels like a third wheel, like this is a conversation she shouldn't be a part of, but Ianto is still clutching her hand, so she doesn't move.

"It hurt every time," Ianto whispers. "And that was the hell of it. If I had just died, if I hadn't come back, it wouldn't have been that bad because I would have known, at least, that it was over. But instead, I bled out and then woke up and had to do the whole thing over again. I never knew when it would end and I didn't realize how terrible that was until I was back, until I didn't feel that way any more."

"No one should have to know what that feels like," Jack says.

"I don't know how you live with it," Ianto says.

"You're forgetting the most important part," Jack says. He reaches across and rests a hand on Ianto's knee. "I'm not alone. And neither are you. Not anymore."

Ianto looks away and lets out a long, shaky breath. Gwen lets go of his hand and pulls him close, puts her arms around him.

"We're here for you, darling," she says, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I'm so sorry we weren't there for you when you needed us." This time, Ianto hugs her back. She can feel his hands shaking against her back.

Jack stands up. He doesn't join them on the couch, but he kneels next to it, laying a hand on Ianto's back, between his shoulder blades.

"It's over," Jack says. He leans close enough that Gwen can feel his breath on her hands. "You're back with us. You were alone, and I'm so sorry for that, but you're not anymore."

Gwen feels tears against her neck and holds Ianto tighter.

"I'm sorry," Ianto croaks. "I'm sorry I gave up."

"You have _nothing_ to be sorry for," Gwen says fiercely. "You survived. You're here."

"And so are we," Jack whispers.

It's not over. Gwen knows that. She knows it's not that easy, that Ianto was a mess even before the months of trauma he's just experienced, that their jobs don't allow for enough time off to deal with this entirely. But with Ianto in her arms and Jack hovering protectively at his back, Gwen can believe that this is a start.


End file.
